


Goodbye to a World

by Hhhhonestlyidk



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Apocalypse, Body Horror, Falling In Love, Fluff, Implied Death, M/M, Nuclear Fallout, injuries, mutations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27256744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hhhhonestlyidk/pseuds/Hhhhonestlyidk
Summary: “Imma muffin” He said with a feverish laugh and then started to cough.“Shh shhh muffin” Bad said sternly and the man obliged with a grunt.Blue crystals protruded from all over his body bleeding where they broke his skin. The blood and crystals stood out against the man’s tan skin. He’s beautiful despite it all.He hisses as Bad pressed on the blue crystals lining his body. Bad ripped the ends of his cloak to use as bandages and slowly wraps around the bloody sites.“It’s going to be ok. I’m here now”.—In which the world ends and they find each other despite it all. Featuring Nuclear Fallout fueled mutations, ducks, and falling in love.
Relationships: skephalo - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 183





	Goodbye to a World

It’s hard to say what exactly brought upon the end. All in all, it was a gradual accumulation of events. The rapid growth of the human population, crop failure and famine, and the sickness, oh the sickness that spread without a cure. 

It was eventually decided that humanity wasn’t worth it. 

Bad remembers the day. He was hunting deep in the mountains when it happened. He remembers looking to the sky for some unknown reason. Something inside him told him he needed to look. He remembers an object as big as a raindrop falling. He remembers watching as it detonates. He remembers the wind whistling, and the boom as the trees around him rattled and fell. The shrieks of animals as they screamed and fled past him deeper in the mountains still.

And he remembers the silence. The unending silence. 

The silence as he finally makes it back to the once city. 

The trees are burned to a crisp and the buildings that are left are felled and melted. There’s not a living human in site. 

The city took his breath away. A crater where life once was. A giant hole where it should’ve been. People would be bustling out of every corner, going to work or school or just to be. The city was always alive despite everything that went on in the world. What was once rife with people was now a wasteland. 

Bad can’t stand to be there anymore. 

At the outskirts of the city he sees burned lumps vaguely human shaped. 

He looks away. 

He can’t help them. Yet his heart still bleeds as he leaves them.

—

Bad returns to the woods. 

The woods were his home. His escape when things got too bad. When everything was too much. When he watched tv and listened to the threats of nuclear death and the plague that seemed incurable. He went to the woods. An escape from the problems of the world.

He remembers going to the forest with his father. He remembers it was so quiet but so loud. The murmurs of crickets at night and the buzzing of cicadas during the day. The singing of birds and the whistling of the wind through the trees. 

He remembers laughing as his father showed him which mushrooms were poisonous and berries were sweet. He remembers scouring the forest and finding the most beautiful wildflowers for his mother.

He remembers hunting. He hated it at first. His father showed him how to lift the gun as they hid beneath the brush. He remembers watching the life drain out of the deer as it was hit with a bullet. He remembers crying out why they had to kill such a beautiful animal. His father ruffled his hair and showed him how to clean it. They said a prayer thanking the deer for its life and for helping to sustain them.

Now he watched as the woods he loved slowly withered and dead. The forest is so quiet now. Silent and dead. Even the evergreens shed their leaves. 

—

The animals change. 

It starts slow. An animal with a lump or two. Slight changes are hardly noticeable. Spotted squirrels and deer tinged green. 

Then it accelerates. The forest lines with dead and decaying animals. Their bodies deformed and covered in bulbous growths. Eyes decorate furry bodies, bones grow where feathers should be protruding sharp and bloody. 

The birds aren’t quite birds anymore. Some have horns and others have what appear to be crystals growing within them. 

Bad held a bird tweeting weakly in pain. It’s horn had curved and was slowly excruciatingly entering its skull. He snapped its neck. He said a prayer and opened it up it’s chest exposing the blue crystals inside. 

If you bypass the strange growths, they still taste the same.

—

Bad tries to ignore the sharps bumps growing on the sides of his head. 

—

He climbs through the dying forest and whistles of bird songs past.

He doesn’t know when exactly but he starts to sing. Half remembered tunes he sings to the dying landscape. 

He sings about everything and anything changing lyrics and tunes until he’s made songs completely different than the original. 

—

Occasionally he finds towns. Small country towns in the middle of nowhere. The general population was already dwindling before the bombings due to the sickness and little towns like this were the most vulnerable. Away from any hospitals the people here died quietly and alone. 

He was heading north hopefully escaping the radiation. He needed more clothing than his camouflage hunting clothes which he’d been wearing since it all started. He washed them in rivers but still they probably smelled like death.

Reluctantly, Bad broke into a house. The air is stale and musty smelling of mold and rot. He holds his breath and lifts his shirt over his nose as he walks into the house.

He pretends he doesn’t see the corpse in the living room. 

He took cans from the kitchen and put them into his hunting bag. He’s foraged for so long it's nice sometimes just to eat man made food.

He finally found the bedroom and opened the wardrobe door. Bad stopped in his tracks as he was met with his reflection. He tried not to scream. His skin had turned a sickly grey and his eyes had lost their green. They were more of a pale white. His teeth were yellowed and pointed and horns were starting to sprout from his head. 

Bad closed the wardrobe with a slam breathing heavily. Was that him? Was that really him? How long had he been like this? The change must’ve been so gradual he didn’t notice. 

He opened the door again a crack. The creature looked back. It really was him.

He opened the wardrobe to its entirety this time avoiding his reflection. He grabbed any clothes that could hide his body. He continued to scour the closet and found a great big black cloak rimmed with red. And it had a hood. Bad subconsciously felt the protrusions sprouting from his head and took the cloak. 

He looked in the mirror again this time swallowed by clothing. A dark grey scarf hid his sharp teeth. A turtleneck and black pants a few sizes too big held up by a belt with a silver buckle hid his grey skin. His mud stained hunting boots were the only thing originally his. On top of it all he wore the black and red cloak covering his growing horns. All you could see were his milky white eyes. 

He almost looked human. 

—

The ducks were one of the few things that stayed relatively the same and in a way that made them extremely abnormal. 

Bad smiled as he followed the mother duck and her children silently. He waddled slightly like he was a duck child himself. 

He had a soft spot for ducks even at this time. He wouldn’t dare eat one. 

He stopped a tree and watched the ducks leave when suddenly the mother turned and quacked at him expectantly. 

“Go on Mrs. Quackerson go find a pond” Bad said. “I gotta go now”

The duck quacked at him again this time angrier. She waddled back up to him and pulled at his cloak, her children following. 

“Ok, ok Mrs. Quackerson I’ll follow you” Bad relented with a smile. The duck quacked happily and Bad followed singing a half remembered song about ducks and lemonade stands. 

—

Bad stopped in his tracks. There was a man laying next to the pond surrounded by ducklings. 

The mother duck ran up to him and started quacking the children she left there getting up and quacking to greet her happily. 

Bad pulled out his gun warily. It was the first time he’d seen a person in god knows how long. How did they survive?

Bad approached the kneeling man and caught his breath and his gun lowered. The man was soaked in blood, lesions of blue crystals breaking through his clothes. His skin was sheen with sweat. 

The mother duck looked at him and quacked urgently. 

He needed to do something he’d seen so many people’s bodies. The first person, the first person alive he couldn’t let them die. 

Bad kneeled by his side and slowly started to remove the bloody clothes from the man.

“Don’t touch me-“ he said weakly. He opened his eyes slightly and Bad saw the most piercing blue eyes he’d ever seen. They seemed almost luminescent.

“Quiet you muffin you need help” Bad sternly as he continued to undress the man and address the situation.

“Muffin?” The man said drowsily and a small smile graced his lips. “What does that even mean.”

“Muffin means a person who keeps moving and doesn’t let me help them”.

“Imma muffin” He said with a feverish laugh and then started to cough.

“Shh shhh muffin” Bad said sternly and the man obliged with a grunt. 

Blue crystals protruded from all over his body bleeding where they broke his skin. The blood and crystals stood out against the man’s tan skin. He’s beautiful despite it all. 

He hisses as Bad pressed on the blue crystals lining his body. Bad ripped the ends of his cloak to use as bandages and slowly wraps around the bloody sites. 

“It’s going to be ok. I’m here now”.

**Author's Note:**

> Trying someone different. Idk if imma finish this or not so tell me what you think please.


End file.
